


Come Follow Me

by Corehealer



Series: Burden and Belonging: Sarah's Shadow - Emet-Selch/WoL Ship Shadowbringers and Ongoing FFXIV Fanfiction [5]
Category: Ascian - Fandom, Final Fantasy XIV, Shadowbringers - Fandom
Genre: Anger, F/M, Memory, Memory Alteration, Multi, Other, Reconciliation, Soul Bond, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:28:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26853736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corehealer/pseuds/Corehealer
Summary: Several days have passed since Distant Shores; Emet-Selch and Sarah continue in their attempts to integrate him into her life and the lives of her friends and allies. She plans to take him next to meet the Eorzean Alliance and it's leaders. To allay any fears that they might have over her harbouring him in Eorzea.In the midst of her preparations for one journey, however, she is interrupted by the coming of an unexpected visitor, and a very different journey with him. A memory himself, or something else?Some new themes over previous installments. An exploration of possible futures.Mild trigger warnings for violence in this piece.
Relationships: Elidibus/Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch/Warrior of Light
Series: Burden and Belonging: Sarah's Shadow - Emet-Selch/WoL Ship Shadowbringers and Ongoing FFXIV Fanfiction [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1913674
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	Come Follow Me

Evening in the Tolls. The lamps of the Stones were being drawn out, one by one, and the Scions had largely retired. Much of that day they had milled about, the returners from the First still convalescing from their bodies long dormancy, the rest largely complete in their latest tasks. Huddled around warming fireplaces and at the bar in the lobby, with good food, good drink and good company at hand, there was little in the way of pressing work to be done, and much in the way of talking to be had.

And all talk of late was on Sarah, and her new companion. Emet-Selch.

With some days having passed with the Ascian in their midst, tempers had finally begun to cool and settle into this new normal. After that first tense day, the pace of normal life had helped to ease Emet into a strange sort of routine, where he became a fixture of the Stones, jokingly referred to by some of the Scions such as the Boulder brothers as ‘Uncle Thal’ and ‘The Grumpy Garlean’. A local oddity, ever at the side of their dearest hero, and one who attracted a few visitors from outside the Scions, who took their time to gawk at him and ask him questions. Always more questions.

Of the Scions themselves, there were of course divided opinions on this development. Thancred, the most intransigent among the Scions regarding Emet, remained gruff and otherwise silent around the man who ever had Sarah at his side, as much out of necessity to maintain his form as to keep his presence from starting fights. He decided it was better to keep his distance, even as he brooded over this circumstance. He departed after some time to assist Riol with reconnaissance along Ghimlyt’s borders, despite the protestations of Krile and Tataru who feared for his health. For him, his health was better served away from their guest and any intrusive memories that he might rouse; he had remembered all he wanted to these many months and ‘years’ spent in the First. Naught more was needed or desired.

Others, by contrast, had spent a great deal of time attempting to tease out all they could about the ancient world from him, Krile most especially. She became convinced he represented, more than anything else, an invaluable font of knowledge and insight, in addition to being an entertaining enough fellow to talk to. She especially wanted to learn more of the Echo, and specifically her own unique experience of it. Of the Scions, she became the first to warm to him, and smile at his approach.

Y’shtola had spent a good deal of time inspecting the efficacy of Sarah and Emet's soul bond, and thus satisfied of it's genuine nature, gradually became warmer to him. He seemed familiar, distantly so, a fact he himself had felt in turn with her when he had rescued her from the Lifestream. Though the nature of that familiarity yet eluded them, he was content to be lesser a hostile presence. And she was happy her friend had been reunited with him in turn.

Urianger was eager too, to learn of what he could of that distant age and how it had impacted the development of the natural world. He was especially eager to hear of the inner workings of the Rejoinings and the origins of the classical elements, confirming theories Sharlayan scholars had only guessed at for centuries. Emet for his part only somewhat struggled to understand what this erudite Elezen spoke of between sentences interlaced with ‘thou’ and ‘thee’. Whenever he failed to catch a meaning, Krile was often on hand to help translate.

These three Sharlayans in turn became a sort of core around him, who granted the most forgiveness and asked the least of him aside from insight. For their presence at least he was well pleased, as a way to break the tedium of less pleasant personages, or the endless parade of onlookers outside in the Toll who thought him some manner of wish granting God. He almost mistook them for old friends and, in truth, perhaps they were. But it would take time to see what the truth of their past lives contained, if ever it was revealed.

The Twins, Alphinaud and Alisaie, had spent an entire evening alone with Sarah and Emet, talking about everything he knew of Garlemald, the nature of primal tempering, and a plethora of other topics, trying to break the ice and tension. Alphinaud, initially skeptical, came to be the easier of the two to fall into acceptance, assessing Emet as being a useful resource if nothing else. A way to strike at the heart of Garlemald’s citizens and their loyalty; what better way to put an end to the Empire than through it’s founder and his words? He could make amends in this way, at least.

From time to time during this conversation, Alisaie had simply sat silently listening, gazing at Emet’s yellow eyes and looping in her mind the scene of her sabre stabbed deeply into his barrier in Amaurot, seeking to break him of his mocking tone and disregard for their lives. The way he had repeatedly attempted to kill her and her brother. Her friends. Emet largely kept his focus on Sarah and Alphinaud, consumed with answering questions but also keen not to invite too much scrutiny from her.

She eventually retired early to clear her head, still largely uncertain what to make of all of this. Her natural fire and flair was a distant thing in this moment, when she listened to Sarah and Emet recount everything about their situation, and the circumstances of his return. It all fairly clouded her mind.

She punched a wall, once out of earshot, and began to cry. What would Grandfather have thought of all of this? What was her friend thinking?

Arenvald, the last Scion to be told, who had not been present during the arrival of Sarah and Emet some days prior, had arrived the day before present and been informed at length; he had been as initially shocked as most by this revelation, and at one point had drawn his sword at Emet, the man who had created the very empire that had stolen so much good from him and his life. It was only after a good bell or two that he had finally been calmed by Sarah’s words and pleas, and given over to a fair amount of soul searching and a little bit of strong drink, the former aided by his Echo and the thought of his similar streak of compassion for Fordola.

Much as had been the case with Cid, G'raha and Thancred among several others, he rung out yet another promise from Emet; that he would do all he could to make amends, earn his place and undo what he could of what he had done in his prior life. For many of Sarah’s companions, barring a few among the more scholarly and soul sensitive, this was the sole criteria of their willingness to at least try and give this mortal foe a chance. And not simply attempt to destroy him.

To this, as with all else these many days, Hades could only sigh, and nod his head. He had expected such outcomes when he had agreed, with some prodding, to her desire to be open with her allies about this. But certainly, it was a drain on him to be thrust over and over into humiliation. Humility in general. Guilt. He accepted a great deal, for her. But there was a part of him that wished to be anywhere else. Or to just slink back into the Azem stone and sleep.

Through it all, Sarah could sense this, and was hoping that her next course of action would give him a chance to breathe and get some fresh air, if only for a time between meetings of yet more people, important people, who would have strong words for him and her but who yet needed to be informed in turn.

***

She sighed, and stretched in her chair, going over her notes once more before it was time for bed.

She had spent the day preparing quiet missives to send to Ul’dah, Ishgard, Ala Mhigo, Gridania and Limsa Lominsa. She would be leaving soon, to visit each in turn beginning with Ishgard, being itself the nearest to Mor Dhona. She wanted to be sure her intentions were clear, and the identity of her guest was kept secret. Everything must be just so, she knew. No panic, and as little rumour breeding fear as possible, throughout this process of explaining the truth. She rubbed her forehead; easier said than done, hero. Especially with the residents of the Toll aware of him.

She expected Ishgard, the place perhaps the most indebted to her, would be more willing to listen to her words than most. Aymeric, Edmont, Lucia, and her many other confidants, they would be open minded, surely. Perhaps even the dragons, such as Vidofnir, who now took to the skies over the Holy See with increasing regularity to build their tentative bonds with man. Mayhaps they too would deign to speak with them both, and listen.

She planned to ask him about them, soon. She must remember to ask. And Midgardsormr too, should be roused if possible. Their interaction would be priceless.

In Ul’dah as well, she expected a somewhat warmer reception. She had ever been a loyal member of the Flames, and tireless protector of the people. She had helped to lighten the refugee burden, and build trade. She had helped to create some measure of peace between the Amal’jaa of the Ash Brotherhood and the Ul’dahns. She had even ridded the realm, in as many years, of so many unscrupulous treasure hunters, bandits, tempered souls and vicious beasts that the whole of Thanalan was experiencing unprecedented levels of safer roads, safer wilds and safer travels.

Lolorito claimed the past was water under the bridge. She would soon be testing that claim too; many members of the Syndicate itself owed her favours, such as Fyrgeiss of the Concern. Godbert was a good friend of hers through his son, sadly still missing in some godsforsaken rift. Pipin, new Flame General after Raubahn’s departure to his old home, would be a resolute ally in the council room as surely as he had been countless times before with her on the battlefield. And Nanamo, certainly, would be little trouble. They would all meet Emet too, and know him at the very least as not a threat. Knowing Lolorito, he would simply see a chance to profit off of creation magic.

Someone so tethered to Sarah was only a threat if Garlemald thought him worth silencing somehow, or reclaiming. She would repeat this claim with Kan-E-Senna and the Admiral, and as many times as was necessary. To Lyse too. She would keep him safe, and them safe. He was a weapon to wield against the Empire, not their enemy. Not anymore.

Nevermind his history. Nevermind his claims. Nevermind the endlessly mind melting nature of the legacy he claimed for all of them, and all the world. Amaurot.

Nevermind that he was, still, an Ascian. Even now. She knew this more than any other. Zodiark might no longer hold so tight a sway over him, but she could still feel in their interactions, many of them intimate in ways a sundered soul could only imagine, that the shadow of His purpose yet lingered in Emet-Selch.

In truth, it had also begun to stir within her, in turn. They had exchanged all of themselves several times now. And that passage of experience was a double sided coin. For all she remembered, she felt the contours of doubt in the back of her former life. For all she took from him and gave in turn, she felt the pull of that being she had once, long ago, rejected. And which he had accepted.

Whispering in her heart as surely as Elidibus’ memory echoed in her mind, whenever she took notice of the nearby Crystal Tower.

She thought on this now, as she sat at her desk in her room, organizing her writing. Aside from her desk lamp, the room was dark and quiet.

The Azem stone rested on her desk, but had been slightly buried under some papers as she had worked. After a moment tidying up, she picked it up and began to stroke it gently in her hands. Was he still sleeping? She had drained so much of his energy of late, more than she had expected. He had assured her it would be alright, that he was able to be sustained by her as well. Even so, she did not want to overtax him.

“ _Yes, I am still awake hero. I slept a while, before you fret_.” He spoke, once again proving attentive in all things.

“Good.” She felt his form appear behind her, lovingly embracing her in his brown robes, the attire he wore among the Scions. He kissed her cheek and neck affectionately, and she smiled. She brought him closer for a brief kiss on the lips.

After a moment, he withdrew, his tone changing slightly.

“ _I would speak with you; about a matter I have been meaning to address_.”

Her eyebrows raised a little. “Oh?”

He withdrew from her into the darkened corners of the room for a moment, seeming to shift and become indistinct before returning into the lamp’s light in his Ascian garb; she hadn’t seen him wear it since their battle.

“Your robe minus a gaping hole in its middle, I see.” She chuckled, but his brief affection and levity seemed to have disappeared. In his robe of duty, his aether became darker, and his continence shifted towards declaration.

“ _I sense you seek to take me on a journey on the morrow. I would first request you come on a journey with me. There are things we must discuss… elsewhere_.” Cryptic.

“Will it take long? These are pressing matters; I would allay fears before hearsay creates a panic.”

“ _I understand this; even so, it is something with some measure of urgency. You will understand in a moment_.”

She looked up at him, looking through his eyes for a hint of his intent. She poked at his aether with her own but found it outwardly neutral, devoid of any clues. Nothing.

She had no reason now to distrust him. She nodded slowly.

“If you are certain, then I believe I can muster the energy. But where are we going?”

“ _Allow me to take care of that. Take my hand_.”

She rose from her desk, straightened her attire, and took his hand. He snapped his fingers, and with the blink of an eye they were whirling through the Lifestream, the colours of their souls the only testament to their passage through that swirling realm of souls.

***

The Void. The Thirteenth. Purple glow and blackness. Sparse aether. Distant humming from umbral crystals, suspended in nothingness. Shards themselves of a failed experiment, but also something more. Pieces of Him, tiny slivers of his form, awaiting His return.

The Chrysalis, situated in that place between the levin light and endless dark, where time and space lacked definitive meaning. Fourteen seats, empty. And the plinth, wherein sat the visage of Zodiark. Ever watchful.

There they appeared, in the middle of this memory of the Convocation chamber of old. A circular dais, where echoed the voices of Ascians past, who had been born and reborn again and again to suit the needs of the Ardor. This place where they had plotted their labyrinthian schemes, and set their plans to motion. All in service to their God, and the hopes of the past.

She had not been here since she had fought Nabriales. Years ago, it had seemed strange and terrifying, pitched in battle as it was with the Majestic one. She remembered being inspired by his triplecasting, even with the desperate nature of that struggle, and had slowly learned that trick in turn in later years.

She shook her head. Focus.

He gazed about the seats.

“ _I know not how many of our kin yet remain among the Sundered, those Ascended. Fandaniel was the last I recall, though his whereabouts are unknown to me_.” He began with this statement, as if assuming she would know immediately the reason for their presence.

“Why… why are we here?”

He turned to her.

“ _We have been together again now for some time, short but sweet and full of hope. And you have taught me much, as I have attempted to teach you and your compatriots in turn in this clumsy fashion_.” He kneeled down and placed a solitary clawed glove upon the floor, brushing against the hard stone.

“ _But you have only begun to glimpse the fullness of yourself; you stumble in my shadow, even with these many revelations. And if we are to begin upon this path of fate, your hand must be prepared for what is to come. And what might yet be required of you_.”

She simply stared at him, somewhat confused. Uncertain. She was yet still so limited by her flesh, her mortal perspective. Her desire to reconcile the narrow, mortal needs of the moment clouding her vision. Clouding awareness as to the price of the future.

After a pause, she began to walk towards the Zodiark statue, and gazing up at it, felt a stirring shadow in her heart. In this she at last began to grasp a little of his purpose.

“Why are we here Hades?” She asked again.

“ _You have left behind a great deal of the façade, already, in finding me. In sharing in me and my burden. Drinking in my pain. You have seen the edge of the possible and the edge of yourself. You know your name, but not it’s full colour_.” He slowly approached her, face unreadable, eyes locked on her.

“ _You must remember everything_.” His eyes were piercing into her soul. He almost seemed a man possessed.

“I doubt it will come even here, if it ever comes in full at all. It has been so long…” She attempted to continue a normal course of words, but was beginning to worry, her sentence trailing off. Sensing this, he caught himself, stopped, and took a breath. He smiled, his same warm smile.

Patience.

“ _Consider, hero, what it is to be one of the elect in this time of trials. You need not have borne the weight of millennia to understand at least this. The grave responsibility of caring for the Star_.”

He gestured his arms around their surroundings. “ _Consider what the Sundered Ascians might think. Some among our peers remain, and without the guiding hand of the Unsundered, they are yet without a leash to prevent error and eccentricity from taking hold. They require shepherding towards a new goal, if such is your will. What will they think of you, should you cross their path?_ ” He continued to slowly approach, a solitary eyebrow raised. His voice seemed different somehow.

“ _Whatever you intend for the future, you must understand the Star and the nature of creation as intimately as you know the hands in front of you. And to do this, you must understand yourself. All of yourself_.”

“And just how do you intend to do more than we already have to coax my old self from the well of history and memory? The stone is a vessel, but a vessel with many locked doors, waiting for the right conditions to be met. You said as much to me in the Pendants.”

“ _A true sentiment. But the stone is ephemeral to the purpose of this visit_.” A shift in the aether. Something else was present.

He grabbed her arm suddenly, a hint of desperation in his voice, rasping out at her “ _You think this pale approximation becoming of your station, hero? That you are worthy of Azem simply by virtue of a small crystal and a prayer_?”

He shook her, almost growling now in anger. She could sense that his frustration with the state of her being had been building in the background for some time. In the moments when she had paraded him around among those who chastised him. But there was something else.

“ _You are more than this shadow. More than they see or say you are. They do not understand you as I do_.”

The possessed demeanor returned. Eyes wide. Smile gone. Teeth bared.

“ _And you belong to me_.”

“Wait, Ha-”

An inhuman strength roused from his arms and flung her bodily to the floor with a large thud. Before she could react plumes of darkness reached out from his back and placed themselves firmly over her arms and legs, pinning her to the ground.

“What are you doing?!?”

“ **Silence**.”

A strip of darkness over her mouth. Smothering her voice. The voice was no longer that of Emet-Selch. It sounded like… Elidibus?

“ **You denied me. Stole my heart from me. Stole my servants from me. And now you would steal my purpose**.”

Emet’s hands were around her neck. The eyes were clouded now, black irises.

“ **You think to steal this Angel from me too. To rekindle in his breast Her misbegotten aspect. I will not allow it**.”

Choking. A heavy weight. She struggled to breathe.

“ **I have only ever sought to fulfill my duty**.”

Elidibus’ glyph appeared over the visage of her love. Suddenly, the choking ceased. She gasped for breath as he retracted from her, barely, the strip of darkness over her mouth dissipating.

“He calls you Azem. Traveler. I remember you now.”

“How is this possible?”

He raised one of Emet’s gloved hands up to his face, studying it.

“An imprint on his soul of my memory, roused from his searching within your own memory. Both of you coaxed me into being. A shadow of the man you laid to rest.”

He gazed over towards the statue of Zodiark.

“And, in this place, I bring voice to He who ever and always has sought only the best interest of this Star.”

She struggled against the shadowy tendrils bearing down on her.

“So what do you want with me? A rematch?! I’m not afraid of you!”

“I sense no fear, but fear is irrelevant to this. I would do the same as he. I would have you remember.”

He placed a hand upon her forehead. Curiously, the first thing to come to mind was the moment, only a few minutes earlier, of her kissing Emet in her room in the Toll.

Of her kissing Him.

“You denied our Lord once. As you denied me, long, long ago.”

He brushed a hand through her hair. His eyes began to regain colour, but were no longer Emet’s now familiar yellow. They became a greyish blue. Something more akin to Ardbert’s irises.

“You denied Her too, in our age. You denied so much of what was going on around you. Guided by your ‘principles’, such as they were, as if they would avail you aught at all when the very world was in balance. Teetering on a knife's edge.”

He shook his head.

“How very unlike you, to err so gravely.”

He lifted her chin up with Emet’s fingers.

“You think yourself above such commitments? That you can simply play all sides and come out on top? That is ill becoming of one who would guide the Star upon its proper course. For one who failed her people so utterly in the hour of their greatest need.”

“I never-”

A finger against her lips. “You never committed. But I can see it in your heart. It was not simply a matter of Emet-Selch’s relenting. You were hesitant of many things in this plan. And my role most of all.”

He lifted himself from her and retracted his shadows. He reached out a hand to help her up, but she brushed it aside, attempting to regain her composure and breath. He continued.

“You worried at how I would change, hidden in the bosom of He who brought our salvation. Your worries were unfounded. It was time, and the errors of others, that wrought these changes in me. Not Him.”

His form began to replace that of Emet’s slowly but surely, the glyph upon his face remaining the only constant. He no longer required the comparison. Before long, he wore Ardbert’s visage.

“A token of his esteem. He was a fine vessel, your shard. You were taken with him, in your own way.”

“How dare you…”

“You speak so because you know I speak the truth.”

Silence. Not a sound echoed in the void. He stared at her, blankly, like some judge placing her on trial. Dispassionate.

“What manner of truth is this that requires deception?”

“The only one that matters. Allow me to borrow a trick from our beloved Angel.”

He snapped his fingers. In a moment, her new robes were gone, replaced by the selfsame robes Emet wore, that Elidibus himself now wore in white, that all Ascians wore. Hers were tinged with a lavender purple, a personal flourish reflecting her tastes. He scoffed.

“Close enough.”

He rose his right hand and shoved a bolt of energy into her, crippling her to the ground in pain.

“Eight times Rejoined. Half as full of light as darkness. His Blessing has found you, and yet stirs within you, but you fight it. Not for Her, but for yourself. Why?”

“B-because I wo-would rather t-the future requi-quire less de-death!” She slumped to the ground, cradling her chest in agony as he retracted his grasp.

“Death was inevitable, or have you learned nothing from the one who claimed your heart and soul both, in the end? He who showed you death’s door more than once?”

He kneeled to meet her now tortured gaze.

“If you are to be worthy of this, you must see everything you have cast off for what it is. Your role most of all must be salvaged in full. And he will not always be here to guide you. Save you. As you saved him.”

A clawed hand upon her cheek.

“He was not the only one to love you so.”

Her eyes grew wide, sensing something in that stirring memory, intermingled with the warmth of his hand through the glove, and the essence of Zodiark deep inside her soul.

He knelt his head down, now unable to continue to maintain eye contact. A single tear left his eyes, falling to the floor and being devoured by the nature of that space.

She had failed to save him too. A love, unrequited in that long gone time before. He had held it back, clung to his duty, to defer the pain of loss. Long before even the Sound stole her and so much else away from him.

Tears began to appear in her eyes, pain becoming a forgotten thing against the flowing river of emotion returning to the fore. Before they even reached her cheeks they seeped forth from her eyes and disintegrated on her skin, eaten by the very air.

“You have forgotten far more then you realize, Persephone. And his vision alone will not afford you the full view needed to find your way to the completion he seeks. That you seek.”

He finally rose again.

“You wish to be Azem? To seek the path of lesser bloodshed? To do alone what we Fourteen in the fullness of our lives, our hearts, our friendship and comradery, failed to do together? What we three Unsundered struggled after for ages and ages uncounted?”

Arrogance.

“You do forget yourself.”

You always rushed ahead, too fast to see the ground falling away beneath you.

“Better by far that you should have died, or been brought into our fold, when that remained an option.”

Better that you should have remained a memory, for his sake. Forgotten, devoured by time.

“What are you truly?”

She had heard enough.

She bolted from her place upon the ground and all at once grabbed onto him, both arms bound. Her Azem mask flared from her face in bright red brilliance, shimmering in the half light of the void. Her anger welled forth, but she held it back just enough to press him into the statue of Zodiark.

“Even now, you still rush headlong towards danger. What would the others think, to see you act this way?” He smiled, the first time she remembered him doing so.

She slapped his face.

“I was not the only one to forget myself. You could have come to me at any time. You almost saw the truth of me in that swamp near Vesper Bay. Where we were reunited in ignorance. You toyed with me more than Emet. At least he had the godsdamned common courtousy to use straight words!”

She placed her head into his chest. At this point, memory had overcome any sense. She would coax more from him.

“However you yet live, be this real or a dream, I would know what you know, if you would share. All of it. Including…”

She looked up at him. His hands were now cupping her cheeks and drawing her close.

A brief kiss.

“You understand.”

“Hardly. But it’s a start.”

She flung him to the ground. Rather then pinning him in a manner akin to how he had done with her, she simply leapt on top of his chest and grabbed his arms, forcing him to the ground. She was acting out a memory not entirely her own, without quite realizing it. Another gift from Him.

Another kiss, more lingering this time. She tasted ashes in his mouth.

“Do you deny me now, Traveler?”

A pause. She hung on a precipice. She hesitated.

“More time is needed, it seems. A pity. But I am patient. And I will not lose you a second time.”

He disappeared. She was left kneeling over an empty space. From a great distance, his voice yet echoed over the void.

“ **We will speak again**.”

***

She awoke with a start. She had fallen asleep at her desk while attending to the missives. Midway through penning the one to the Seedseer. Ink had smeared in the margins.

She panted for breath, sweat beading slightly on her brow. She felt like she had run a foot race, and lost.

The Azem stone was to her right, dormant on the desk. With her awakening, it glowed slightly.

“ _Is everything alright my dear? You seem quite perturbed_.” Emet-Selch, the real one. Her heart.

She hesitated, uncertain as to what had just transpired. She shook her head.

“A bad dream… was all. Disquieting. We’ll speak of it later; I need a moment to collect my thoughts…”

She could sense Emet gauging her aether, but he did not pry overmuch. He trusted she would explain, if necessary.

“ _Very well. I would recommend you finish these letters tomorrow then. There will be time before we leave. Come and rest a while with me, my weary wanderer_.”

His aether was warm and inviting as his visage arose and enveloped her briefly in a tender embrace before returning to the stone.

“Yes… sleep is best. We’ll need it for the road tomorrow.” She was uncertain of that now, if sleep was best or even safe. But, hoping there would be no repeat of what had just happened, she acquiesced.

Lamp light dimmed to nothing, and darkness enshrouded the room. She laid her clothes away and placed herself in bed, head propped up by white, fluffy pillows. She cradled the Azem stone close to her chest, cherishing it’s warmth.

“ _Rest easy my dear_.” She smiled, beginning to drift off, focusing on his warmth.

A sudden chill upon her spine, brief. The aether in her chest churned cold, shivering in her breast ever so slightly.

“ **I will be waiting**.”

Silence. Her eyes widened for a moment, but exhaustion overcame fear and claimed her all the same. She slept a dreamless sleep.


End file.
